Too Much
by Silver and Gray
Summary: "...he took a deep breath and began walking forward. The water flowed up through his legs, then to his waist. Taking another step forward, he was surprised to feel the ground below him give way as he was sucked under by the tide."


**I wrote this a long time ago, and I figured I may as well post it (:**

**Enjoy!**

Matthew stood on the beach and stared at the horizon. The sun was slowly setting; a red hue splashed throughout the sky. He blinked as the wind blew in his eyes. It smelled salty, and water pooled around his ankles as the tide came in, then went out. He looked down at his feet. He still had his shoes on, and they were soaked through. Even when time was slowly drawing to an end, he still felt guilty about damaging his favorite shoes. He looked back at the sky and the waves continued to crash through the tide.

He didn't really know when he had made the decision—well, he knew, but he didn't remember what had led it all to start.

What had led him to think of ending his own life.

Maybe it was when he entered high school. Middle school hadn't been so bad. He was practically invisible and he never did anything that would make him stand out. Every day he would go to school, do what he needed, then go home. It went on like this for years. He was a loner, to say the least. He didn't mind it, he would tell himself, but in all truth, he ached every time he would look at his twin brother and see him with a group of friends. But he told himself not to be jealous. Some people were just better at making friends than others.

So he slowly but surely made his way through middle school. When he entered high school, he decided to make a change and sign up for a club. He was beginning to get tired of being pushed aside and everyone ignoring him.

He joined two. Photojournalism and Public Speaking.

He always loved the feeling of holding a camera in his hands, and found himself to be rather exceptional at taking pictures. And so, as he joined the club, he was handed a camera. A very nice one too. And from then on, he began taking picture after picture of anything he saw. Sure, once in a while he'd have to use it to take pictures for the Yearbook, but when he was allowed to use it for whatever he wanted; he would be gone for almost a whole day away from home, wandering on trails in the woods in his families' backyard. He'd take hundreds of photos until the memory card couldn't hold anymore. And then he'd stay after school, day after day, inside of the darkroom when no one else was developing their film. He loved being in there, the familiar smell of the chemicals, the light that lit the room being a yellowish-red instead of white so that the prints wouldn't overexpose. It was like his personal haven.

And then he joined Public Speaking because he felt that he had to toughen up. He was more nervous than most people when standing in front of a room full of people, and unfortunately for him, giving oral presentations and speeches was a big part of high school. He loved it and slowly came to embrace the fact that even though he may be nervous when he stood up there in front of a group of people, so was everyone else.

But as he went through his second year, his two favorite things began to become his nightmares.

It started in Photojournalism. Usually when he would develop his prints, he'd leave the prints to dry overnight, and then the next morning before Homeroom, he'd quickly go into the darkroom and collect the pictures. It was about the third month in of school when he walked into the room one morning to see his photos…

_Gone_.

He tried not to panic. He was thinking to himself '_Someone must have picked them up by accident…' _repeatedly. And so, he continued to develop his pictures as if nothing had happened.

It happened again. He tried to keep calm about it, not to mention anything. He felt that if he complained, he was a nuisance to everyone. So he kept quiet about it. But really, on the inside, his whole world was falling apart.

But then, one morning as he opened the paper, he almost choked on his cereal as he scanned the winners of the photo contest that he had been keeping his eye on.

His photo. It had won first prize. It was a picture of a butterfly resting peacefully on a flower. It was one of Matthew's favorites. And yet, here it was in full color submitted by someone that _wasn't_ him, and said that they took the picture.

He blinked back tears. Ignoring his brother's questioning look, he stood up, leaving his cereal untouched and walked up to his bedroom. For a good portion of the day, he sat on the bed and stared out at the window, thinking, wondering _why _would someone do that to him? He always respected other people's property and _every time_ someone lost something, he would return it.

He remembered the one time he saw a woman drop a wallet as she hurried out of the store, two children in hand. Inside was her credit card, driver's license, and nearly two hundred dollars. Alfred had been with him that day and tried to egg him into taking the money, then turning the wallet into the lost and found. But Matthew thought to himself, _'How would I feel if someone took all the money, but turned in the wallet anyway?'_ He felt incredibly selfish. And so, he walked up to the counter and turned the wallet in, all the money intact. When he had asked later on about the woman, the manager of the store said she had been so happy, almost in tears. She had recently been fired from her job, and since she was a single mother with three kids, it was all the money she had. Matthew never was glad that he had made the right decision.

He never confronted the person about the photo. He didn't think he'd have the stomach to even do it. But after that, he never developed photos again, and even when he did, he always had a dreading feeling, wondering if he would come into the room tomorrow and they would be all gone. The photos never got taken again, but he couldn't help and constantly feel like the next day, or the next, or the day after the next, they would be gone.

Though it never happened again, he never felt completely safe.

Several months after that, he was assigned to give a speech in his English class. He had to talk for about five minutes and inform the class about something he liked to do. He was excited. This was his chance to shine! Without hesitation, he signed himself up, saying that he would be talking about hockey.

From then on, he was given a week to practice, and a week was more than enough time. He practiced day after day until the speech was practically five minutes on the dot. And then came the day he had to present in front of his classmates. Swallowing down the lump in his throat he stood in front of the class and began speaking like he never had before. And oddly, it was _fun_.

On and on he spoke, informing the class of the moves involved, equipment used, and the basic history behind hockey. It was perfect, Matthew thought to himself with a grin as he finished it up. And he felt that after he was done, he should go down to his Public speaking teacher and thank him.

But then it happened. A girl's voice, just a whisper as she leaned over next to her friend and hissed into her ear,

"Who was that?"

Matthew's heart leapt to his throat. This girl had to be joking. She had several different classes with him. But when she saw her friend shrug, and then they both turned their heads slightly glimpse at him as if they were just seeing him for the first time…Matthew realized they were. When they saw he was looking, they quickly whipped their heads back around. And that was it. He was still invisible.

He didn't know why, but just with that, Matthew had slowly begun to go downhill. His grades dropped when all he would do when he got home was sleep. Sleep and eat—but just barely. Alfred had noticed when he started to lose weight and pointed it out to Matthew one day at breakfast, who wasn't eating his food, just pushing it around on his plate. When he looked up at Alfred, he noticed that he wasn't wearing glasses anymore. Alfred had gotten contacts. When? Matthew tried to remember, but everything was like a blur. He went through the days without even noticing, and it struck him with a kind of fear. What else had he missed out on while he was shut away within himself? Time had gone on without him, and he had been left behind.

He thought about ending his own life. At first he couldn't bring himself to even think about it, but then slowly, his mind became like a haze, and he began to think about it all the time.

It. _Suicide._

He decided he would do it by walking into the ocean. He wanted to know what it felt like, wanted to feel the pain before he died. And besides, the ocean was so beautiful.

And so he stood there. He had removed his shoes and socks, leaving them in a soaked pile in the sand, and stood, the water flowing in through his toes.

It was cold…

He bit his lip, and hesitated for a moment before he took a deep breath and began walking forward. The water flowed up through his legs, then to his waist. He took another step forward and was slightly surprised to feel the ground below him give way as he was sucked under by the tide. No! He didn't want his life to end _this_ suddenly! In instinct and out of fear, he reached his hands forward, as if trying to grab at something. But he couldn't find any traction. He opened his mouth in a scream as he tried to make his way to the surface, but only water flowed in, making him choke. He was pulled down further, and he kicked madly with his legs. But it was no use. His kicks slowly became weaker until…

He felt himself drift away. His whole body held no more strength, and like a curtain, blackness fell over his eyes. He began sinking lower and lower…

There was a splash off in the distance, and after a few seconds, two hands were linked around Matthew's waist. With a strong tug, the person yanked his body to the surface, the cold air rushing onto his face. He was dragged onto the shore, and the person found he wasn't breathing. In a mad effort, they became pumping his chest, and blowing air into his lungs. Matthew didn't respond for several minutes, his lips and whole face starting to turn blue.

But then with one final push, he gagged and regained consciousness only to turn over and throw up what felt like gallons of water. His throat burned, and spit flowed out of his mouth, but he was too weak to wipe it away. The only thoughts that went through him as he stared out at the horizon with half lidded eyes were, '_How did I end up back here?' _

The feeling of something being tightly wound around him made him groan in pain. It was something big and soft, and Matthew realized, a _coat_.

"That was so fucking stupid, kid!" A voice above him nearly shouted. This person was furious. Matthew slowly turned his head and stared up at the face in a kind of daze. He had to squint his eyes to see who it was. His glasses must have fallen off in the water. He knew that face…those eyes…

"Gil…Gilbert Beilsch…midt?" He said slowly, his voice hoarse. Gilbert was a popular kid at school, someone Matthew never thought he would ever talk to. He was very notorious for not only being extremely cocky, but on top of it all, albino. He would always be seen hanging around with upperclassmen, and was appropriately deemed one of the biggest douche bags at their school.

But this Gilbert…

Water dripped down off the ends of his white hair and landed on Matthew's face, but he didn't mind. He was mesmerized by those red eyes…

Gilbert reached into the jacket wrapped around Matthew, pulled out a phone and began dialing a number, "No shit, Matthew. We've been in the same class for nearly three years."

Matthew's eyes widened.

"Y-you know my…name…?"

This had to be a dream. It was just a dream. Gilbert ignored the question though, and began barking into the phone.

"Hey Ludwig, can you bring the car over? I'm at the beach. Well, no shit. Anyway, some kid tried to mess around in the water and almost drowned himself, so we need to get him to our house as fast as possible…well, I don't think that would be a good idea! I'm not going to drop him off at his parent's house and have to explain to them what happened! Besides, he's going into shock right now, so can you please just _hurry_?" He then murmured a few words in a language that Matthew didn't understand. German, maybe? And then he hung up the phone, turning his attention back to Matthew.

"You know you could have died out there." Gilbert said seriously, which surprised Matthew. He had only ever seen Gilbert fooling around in class. This was a side he never saw before, and he instantly felt himself well up with guilt.

"I…I-I'm s-…sorry…" Matthew said quietly, feeling tears prick at his eyes. Gilbert snorted and shook his head.

"Don't be sorry, just don't do it again. Jesus, I always thought you were the smart one between you and Alfred."

And without another word, Gilbert moved his hands so that they were under Matthew, and then picked him up with ease.

"Jesus, do you not eat or something? You're fuckin' light."

Matthew decided not to say anything about that comment, and it wasn't like he could either. The rush of air hit against his face making him realize just how cold he really was. His teeth began chattering so hard it hurt. Everything about him felt cold even though he was wrapped in the coat. He noticed Gilbert wasn't wearing a shirt.

"A-a-a-aren't y-y-you c-c-cold?" Matthew gasped out and Gilbert huffed.

"Always looking out for other people…No shit, I'm cold. But its better that you wear that for now since you're the one that's going into shock. And stop trying to talk. You're using up too much energy."

Matthew became silent and stared up at Gilbert. _'Always looking out for other people…_'? What did Gilbert mean by that…?

And then he remembered. His eyes widened. As he watched the car of the woman that lost her wallet all those years ago drive away, he noticed a boy that had to be about a year older than him glare at him through the windshield. That white hair…he thought it was a coincidence…

No way…

Matthew didn't really remember much after that. He slipped in and out of consciousness and he felt Gilbert carefully placing him in the backseat of a car, and then his mind went blank. He curled up into the seats and continued shivering.

The next time he woke up, he was staring back at the face of his father, Arthur, who looked as if he had aged at least twenty years. Before he could even say anything, he was tackled by his brother, Alfred who began to ramble on and on, _Oh my GOD, Matthew! Don't ever do that again! What do you think you were thinking? Oh my GOD, I was so scared! What if you had died? I would have been so mad! What you did was so, so, so, so, so stupid, but I'm so glad you're still here, and I'm sorry for all the times I've put bugs in your shampoo, you're a good brother, and I love you, and I'm so glad you're okay…_

When they had finally been able to pry Alfred away from Matthew, Arthur sat down beside his bed and just held his hand. He didn't say anything, and stared at Matthew with a sad, but relieved look on his face.

Matthew swallowed back tears, "H…hey dad…"

Arthur gave a sad smile and squeezed his hand. He only said one thing. "I'm so glad you're okay…"

No one ever brought up the subject, but everyone knew what Matthew had really been trying to do. Matthew was grateful to them. He didn't know what he would have done if as soon as he left the hospital, and everyone would try to force him into therapy. But instead, when he got home, he arrived to a quiet, peaceful house. He couldn't help but smile slightly. These were people that cared for him, and when he had lost his way, he'd have forgotten that if he had died, someone would have missed him, and all the grief he would have caused…Matthew swallowed.

As the days went by, he realized that no one in his family knew who had saved him. His father simply said that the people working at the hospital told them someone had dropped him off without leaving a name, and they were forever grateful toward them for saving Matthew. Of course, when they found out who it had been, the reactions he got from each one of the family varied.

Alfred's jaw dropped, "Mattie, that douche bag—"

"Alfred!" Arthur snapped before turning to Matthew with a somber look on his face. "Beilschmidt…I remember hearing that name somewhere…"

"It's because it was in the obituary several years ago." Francis, his 'other father' calmly replied while cutting into his food, "They had a daughter that was about four or five that wandered away from her oldest brother while they were at the beach, and she ended up drowning in the ocean. It was big news, since their mother was never home and Gilbert had to hold the family down by himself, so instead of everyone feeling sorry for them, they all tried to press charges of child neglect against them."

Alfred actually looked stunned. "That…kinda sucks…even though Gilbert's still a douche bag…"

Matthew was stunned also. He had never known. And once again, his mind wandered back to the woman that dropped her wallet. She had been holding the hand of a little girl with a rosy face and beautiful bouncing curls, and a boy that was slightly older with blonde hair that had a serious look in his blue eyes, despite how young he was. Emotion welled up inside Matthew. What if he had died? How would have Gilbert felt to have to hold another body lost to the ocean? And all this time, he had assumed that Gilbert lived a normal life like anyone else.

Quietly he excused himself, and his parents let him go. As he walked up to his bedroom, he felt the need to call Gilbert and apologize and also…

He looked through the phone book and was relieved to see just one 'Beilschmidt' was listed. (Unlike 'Jones' and 'Williams', which had _millions_) He picked up his phone, took a deep breath and dialed the number.

The phone rang several times and finally someone answered.

"_Yeah?"_

"Ah, um…hello, is Gilbert there?"

"_This is the awesome him, may I ask who's calling?"_

"Ah, um Gilbert. Hi, this is…Matthew Williams…"

There was a pause on the other end and Matthew squirmed. Did he say something wrong?

"_I didn't think you'd remember me. I thought you were too far gone. What's up kid? Are you feeling better?"_

Matthew smiled in relief. "I'm doing fine…great actually. I'm calling to ask you though—I mean, not ask you, I mean, I'm calling to say…Thank you..."

There was a pause and then,_ "Don't worry about it, Kid. What else would I have done? Just stand there? I did what anyone would have done."_

"Ah, no. I mean, maybe, but you saved me and took me to the hospital and everything…and, I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused.."

"_You didn't cause any trouble…well, if you had died, then you would have caused some trouble…"_

Matthew laughed at how casually Gilbert said the last part of the sentence. It actually felt nice to take things a bit lightly.

After that, Gilbert talked to him in class, and from then on, it slowly grew to where they became close friends. Gilbert admitted that he had tried talking to Matthew many times before, but it was like he had set up a 'vibe' that kept people from getting near him.

And it was one night, several months later while they were both lying on top of a parking garage as they looked at the stars and sang _Down Under _by Men at Work at the top of their lungs.

"_Lying in a den in Bombay, with a slack jaw, and not much to say…"_ Gilbert sang loudly and he made ridiculous moves as if he were trying to dance with his hands. Matthew was like the back-up vocals, his singing voice more soft and quiet, _"I said to the man, are you trying to tempt me? Because I come from the land of plenty. And he said," _Then Gilbert threw up his hands and shouted, _"OH! Do you come from a land down under?"_

Matthew laughed as he sang along. His whole body was filled up with an unexplainable joy. He felt as if he might laugh uncontrollably and burst into tears at the same time.

_Thank you Gilbert…_

_Thank you for saving me…_

_Because of you, I see that my life isn't so bad after all._


End file.
